Somewhere in Between
by djEskimo
Summary: No Spoilers: Tony rethinks his priorities after Ziva is shot. TIVA - NCIS family - hints of McAbby.
1. 1: Ziva

**A/N: This is probably going to end up at 3-4 chapters. I'm going to put a blanket season 6 spoiler warning over this, just in case.**

"Come on agent, DiNozzo… surely you can do better then that." I close my eyes this time as he whips the pistol across her face. I can still hear the nauseating thud as it lands, and the uncharacteristic whimper that follows.

It's not good for my heart.

I don't want to open my eyes, but I know I have to. And there she is; bloodied, bruised, broken. I expect her eyes to be pleading, to be searching mine for a way out. But she knows I cannot and should not do anything. She looks far too calm for this. Here she is, tied up in an empty boathouse by the biggest drug lord in the lower forty-eight and two of his burly associates with nothing but an unarmed, incompetent excuse for a partner staring back at her. There is no distress, no worry. Just pain.

The sight makes me want to vomit. Her left eye is swollen shut, nose clearly broken, and her lip is cracked. She's bleeding from a large – too large – cut on her forehead.

Why isn't Gibbs here yet?

"What do you want me to do?" I ask. I hear my voice crack ever so slightly. I really hope they missed that.

"You know damn well what I want." He replies, pulling his gun back menacingly. "Get me a boat and you're both free to go."

"I've got canoe back at my apartment – I can go get it if you'd like."

"Cute. That's a dangerous call on your part DiNozzo. Do we really look like the guys who appreciate 'cute'?"

I have a snappy comeback, but I refrain; Ziva has already been hit four times. Five would be too many. One was too many.

"Good, you're learning. Now do you want to negotiate, or would you like to see pretty agent David here eat lead."

Ziva's eyes lit up for a moment, imperceptible to most, but I'm not most.

Gibbs.

"Actually, it's pronounced Dah-Veed, and she's an officer, not an agent,"

"NCIS, drop your weapons!" I let myself smile as Gibbs's voice echoes throughout the room. I turn my head to see him, McGee, and about a dozen metro cops burst through the dockside entrance.

Then there's the shot.

I expect time to stop. But people are moving… more shots are fired. Ziva is bleeding.

I'm moving, but I don't know how. Ziva's eyes are closing; blood is seeping through her shirt. I quickly pull out my knife to cut her loose and place her on the ground.

I tear off my jacket and place it over the wound, hoping – praying – that Gibb's has seen fit to call an ambulance.

"Ziva…" Her eyes are barley open; they look more grey than normal. "You're going to be fine, okay? We've got an ambulance coming, please just… hold on" I'm vaguely aware of Gibbs and McGee as the run over towards us. Not that they can help much.

Not that I'm helping much.

"Tony…" Her voice is raspy at best.

"No, Ziva. Don't talk. I'll talk for both of us okay?" She smiles but it looks like a grimace. "You're a ninja Ziva… Ninjas don't…" I can't finish the sentence, as I choke back tears.

"David!" Gibb's roar finishes my sentence as I press harder against her chest, watching the blood soak through my jacket. "You will not die, today."

"How about tomorrow?" She gasps and McGee lets out a strangled laugh.

My eyes travel to her ashen face… So eerily pale. Gibbs runs a steady hand through her hair and her eyes begin to shut again.

"Ziva, stay with me here. Can you hear that? Those are sirens Zi. They're almost here. Please stay with me," I glance at McGee looking for reassurance that the distant horns I hear aren't a hallucination.

"Tony" It's hardly above a whisper, but it draws my attention away from McGee's rattled face back to her feeble figure.

"Please don't talk Ziva." The sirens are getting louder. "Please, save your energy."

I'm crying now. When did that happen? God I hope she can't see it.

"Tony—" she starts but I cut her off.

"Tell me later okay? Tell me when we're at the hospital, or better yet at work. You're going to be okay."

I see a small spark in her eye just before her lids finally shut.

She's not breathing. Or is that me?

"Ziva!" I yell. Gibbs is pulling me away from her; why is he doing that? Someone has to keep pressure on her wounds and…

I can no longer see her limp form as three paramedics swarm the scene, shouting things I don't understand.

I feel Gibbs remove his hand from my shoulder – when did he put it there?

I get glimpses of her. She's being moved onto a stretcher, my jacket has been thrown aside as the medics work on the wound.

I don't know whether time is moving fast or slow, all I know is Ziva David is being put into an ambulance. The doors close, the sirens blare, and the truck quickly drives away through the large entryway into the street.

And I'm left staring at my blood-soaked jacket.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs's voice is surprisingly soft. I turn to respond praying I'm not still crying. I'm not.

"Boss,"

McGee is watching me cautiously as he takes a step away from the departing squad cars.

"Go home. Take a shower."

Reality switches on like a light.

Ziva's fighting for her life right now, and he expects me to go home. And shower?

"No." The strength in my voice surprises both of us. "I can't just… Ziva is… Boss, I've got to go make sure she's okay."

"You won't be able to do anything for her, Tony."

The name sounds foreign coming from him.

I'm silent for a moment.

"I need her, Boss." I'm not sure what I meant by that. But it felt right to say. Gibbs would understand; he always does.

"I know DiNozzo." His blue eyes are piercing into my own. "McGee, go to the hospital. Take DiNozzo with you."

It's a lot less of a fight then I would've expected but I don't question him and neither does McGee. I've just walked past Gibbs when I feel his steely grip on my arm turning me around.

"Hey," his eyes bore into mine once again. "Whatever happens with her…" I see pain in his stare. It's shocking really, to see so much emotion come from this steely-eyed veteran.

He closes his mouth briefly, eyes drifting to McGee before snapping back to me.

"I can't lose another one."

**A/N: So that's chapter one, you can probably expect 2-3 more. I know the sentence structure was a little odd, but it was a conscious decision in order to make it read more like Tony's thoughts.**

**Please review; it's my first NCIS story and I'd love to know your opinions/comments/suggestions.**


	2. 2: McGee

Control

**A/N: I'd just like to start out by saying thank you to everyone who reviewed/favorited/subscribed. It really makes my day to know people enjoy reading this.**

**So I know some people thought the last chapter seemed like an episode, but unfortunately I won't be revisiting that little plot again (in this fic at any rate). I've already got the story-arc planned out for the rest of this, but hopefully you will still enjoy it. View it more like the end of an episode, yes?**

**But without further ado, here's the second installment:**

-=-

Waiting rooms are altogether unpleasant. The flicking fluorescent lights give the beige walls a claustrophobic feel, while the smell of disinfectant is just another depressing reminder of the miserable nature of the place.

It's appropriate really. You would want to be happy in an ER waiting room.

Cognitive dissonance right? No, that's not it…

McGee walks in, stuffing his phone in his pocket and running a hand through his disheveled hair. He hasn't spoken to me since we got here. I haven't spoken to him either. What exactly would we say?

"Abby's on her way. So is Gibbs. He just got of the phone with Ziva's father."

I give a noncommittal grunt in response. Abby will only serve as a nuisance. I mean, I love her to death, but she'll just end up pacing nervously while muttering loudly to herself. Gibbs will be eerily quiet, and doing his crazy mind reading trick to see inside my head.

At least McGee knows when to be quiet. We've been here for three hours and nothing, not a peep from him till just a second ago.

Suffer quietly. That's how we roll. Emotions are unnecessary to show. We each know what's going on. What could actually happen. To talk about it would be overkill.

"Tony," his eyes are red, probably from the poor lighting fixtures; they really need to get that fixed. "She's going to be okay, right?"

Who is this supposed to reassure?

"You think a simple bullet could take out our crazy Mossad assassin?"

"It was right next to her heart Tony… She's been in there for three hours." His voice is cracking. So much for not wearing our emotions on our sleeves.

"Do you know a stronger person?" I ask. That fact is the only solace I take in this colorless cell.

"No one is bulletproof."

"She is." I say it without thinking. It's common sense really. Nothing can penetrate Ziva David's steely skin.

"Tony…"

"Come on McGee. She's going to be fine." I'm thinking of Ohio State football. Mexico. My dad even. Anything but Ziva. Or Kate.

"Where did this come from?" His voice is angrier then it was a second ago. How hard is he taking it? "You were anything but apathetic back at the scene."

"You want me to show some feelings Probie?" I snap. Credit to him, his face didn't break in his incensed gaze.

"I want you to care that your partner is in there fighting for her life."

"You think I don't care?" I'm standing now, shouting at the young field agent. "Is that really it? I don't care more about anyone else in the world!" Once again, I said it without taking the time to think about what I might be revealing.

"You've got a damn funny way of showing it."

"You think I'm lying?"

"I think you're hiding."

"What, because I'm not pacing around the room, asking every nurse that walks by about her status."

"It seems like you don't even know where you are!"

"Maybe this is my way of dealing with things."

"Seems unhealthy."

"Oh, well, thanks for the advice Dr. McGee. I'll keep that in mind."

"You didn't act this way with Kate."

What did he say?

"What did you say?"

"I said you didn't act this way with Kate."

"Ziva isn't dead."

"So that's your excuse?"

"What exactly are you saying probie?"

"Excuse me?" I hear a feeble voice fill the small silence that had fallen between us. "Are you the family of Ms. David?"

"It's pronounced Dah-Veed" we correct her together.

"And yes, we are." McGee adds.

"Is she okay?" I ask, just as she opens her mouth.

"Well, yes. We think."

"You think?" McGee sounds angry. I'm angry.

"She made it out of surgery, but due to the extensive amounts of blood loss, we had to induce a coma." She reads all this off her chart, not bothering to make eye contact with either of us till she's done. "I'm sorry, are you really her family? You look nothing alike…"

"A coma? Is she going to wake up?" McGee asks before me.

"Yes. Probably soon. Her brain activity is relatively high, which would imply that her body is replenished enough at any rate. Oh, we gave her a blood transfusion. I forgot to mention that."

"Are you an intern?" I ask, not bothering to hide the rude undertone in my question.

"Yes, how'd you know?"

"Lucky guess. Can we go see her now?"

"Well, she's in the ICU, so only family is allowed to see her currently…"

"Great." I begin moving past the young doctor before she stops me.

"You guys aren't really family, are you?"

"Siblings." McGee says quickly.

"We were adopted." I add at her dubious look.

"By Leroy Jethro Gibbs – ask him." McGee says. "Speaking of which, he'll be here soon, with our other sister Abigail."

She looks hesitantly at us before pointing to the door behind her. "The ICU is down the hall there. Ask the nurse at the end where to find Ms. David." She pronounces it wrong again. I see McGee's mouth open to correct her, but he soon closes it as he follows me through the door.

-=-

**A/N: I know it's short, but it was necessary. The next chapter will be longer, I promise.**

**Reviews are better than Ziva's mistaken idioms, so leave on please (and if you can do it in a mistaken idiom, more power to you).**


	3. 3: Abby

**A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update; things have been a little hectic, and it certainly doesn't help that my muse appears to be on the fritz. I think I'm going to make this story a little longer then previously intended. Not sure by how much though.**

**-=-**

Ziva has taken my breath away before. Mostly physically; a small elbow in the ribs from her is enough to knock the wind out of the strongest man. Occasionally just by her presence; the clothes she wears. Or the way she does her hair.

But never like this.

I don't know why I feel so sick. She's not pale. She has a few cuts and bruises, but she hardly looks broken. If it weren't for the tubes and machines, she could just be sleeping.

It's probably not the sight, but the idea behind it that's making me nauseous.

It contradicts everything I've come to know about Ziva. Always alert, Ziva. Never showing injury, Ziva. Always sleeping armed, Ziva.

Yeah. That's definitely what's causing my desire to vomit.

McGee is slow to walk in behind me; obviously he's similarly disturbed by the sight.

What now? Do I sit and wait it out? Wait till she opens her eyes?

There aren't any chairs in the room. In the movies, there are always chairs. Why the hell aren't there any chairs?

Why the hell does it bother me this much?

"Probie?" I start so softly if surprises even myself. My eyes remain locked on Ziva's lifeless form as I continue. "Would you mind asking a nurse if we could get a couple chairs in here?"

I see him nod in the corner of my eye before he exits the room.

"Oh Ziva…" I don't know if I say it aloud or not. She wouldn't be able to hear me either way.

Once again I feel myself losing my grip on time. McGee hasn't returned yet. It's probably got more to do with Ziva's current state then his inability to find a chair.

"Tony!" I hear my name in the form of a screech, and my hand reflexively reaches for my SIG. Abby rushes past me before I have time to take in her despaired profile. "Is she okay? What's happening? Why isn't she awake yet?"

I find myself at a loss for words, unsure of which question to answer first before I realize I don't know how to answer any of them.

"I can't believe this happened? How did she get caught? Why didn't she have back up?" Her running monologue of questions comes to an abrupt halt at this question. Or perhaps it's just my perception of it.

After all, I was her back up.

I was her back up.

We'd been following a lead that led us to an empty boating house. Ziva went in first… I was then ambushed, disarmed, and left to watch my helpless partner be captured, tortured, and then of course shot.

God I'm an asshole.

"She did have back up," I say softly. Abby stops talking – she was talking?

"What do you mean?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Oh, Tony…" Abby is suddenly pulling me into a bone-crushing hug. "What if she doesn't make it? What if-"

"Abby, she's stable. She's going to be fine."

She abruptly pulls back. "She's in the ICU, Tony! You can't just tell me she's going to be fine!"

"Abby-"

"No! This isn't a joke, Tony! You guys go out and risk your lives every day and just expect me to be calm when some one gets shot – nuh uh. Not gunna work that way."

"Ab-"

"No, Tony. This isn't okay. Even if she's going to be fine, it's the principle of the matter. You can't just…"

"Abby, please," my plaintive tone seems to do the trick in silencing her. "I know what happened. I know what could have happened. I know how much she means to you, and I damn well know how much she means to me. Just… Please… I don't want to do this right now."

She looks torn between drawing me into another lung collapsing hug and bursting into a tremendous sobbing fit. Luckily McGee enters, two chairs in tow, before she has the time to do either.

"Oh, hi. Abby. Right." He carefully drops the chair against the wall before shifting uncomfortably in his shoes. I think I hear him mumble something along the lines of "coffee" before he leaves the room once again.

"I'm so sorry." She finally says after the door shuts behind the young field agent. "I totally forgot."

"Forgot about what?"

"You and Ziva. Ziva and you. This…" she begins motioning between me and Ziva before returning her attention to me.

"What is 'this'?"

"Your relationship!" She says it as if it's obvious.

"What are you talking about Abs?"

She gives a sad smile as she sits down in one of the chairs McGee brought in. "Don't act like it's not obvious."

"I'm not acting…"

"Everyone knows how you feel about her, Tony."

I don't have the strength to argue, particularly because I know nothing I say will change Abby's determined belief.

"That doesn't mean we have a relationship." I say sadly.

"That doesn't mean you both don't want one."

"Both? Last time I checked she wasn't that interested in the idea."

"When was the last time you checked?"

"Okay, fine. I never explicitly asked her. But… I mean. It's obvious, isn't it?"

"Not really. If I were to be honest, which I'm going to be, you're the one who's been sending mixed signals."

"Mixed signals?" I ask as with as much condescension as I feel appropriate. "She's the one who makes constant, furtive calls to some mystery person in Hebrew all the time. Not to mention she has this picture of-"

I'm making a nasty habit of revealing too much today.

"Picture of what?"

"Picture of Tel Aviv. It looks gorgeous. We should go visit sometime." I say as I drag the chair next to Abby closer to Ziva's bed.

"Picture of what?" She repeats, crossing her arms.

"Picture of a guy. On her phone." I finish as I take my seat, choosing to look at Ziva's still form rather than Abby's inquisitive eyes.

An oddly comfortable silence falls between us as I keep my gaze on my favorite Mossad assassin.

"Do you see a ring on her finger?"

"What?" I ask, snapping my attention back to Abby.

"She's clearly not married. Or even engaged. And I know your feelings aren't unrequited, Tony."

I want to come back with something witty. I want to explain the myriad of reasons why I don't have a shot in hell with Ziva David. But mostly, I want to believe her, so I keep my mouth shut.

-=-

**A/N:** **Any review will inspire me. Whether it be one word or an indepth paragraph. Just click the little button…**


	4. 4: Gibbs

**A/N: I know… I haven't updated in a while. And for that I am sorry. But all the spoilers have gotten me in a constant state of fear/anxiety/excitement. Alas, it is also AP testing time, which means that I don't exactly have a whole lot of spare time.**

**Anywho, here's your update, and those of you observant readers will note that it is in fact entitled "Gibbs"**

-=-

You'd think people would have more respect for federal agents. I mean honestly. We risk our lives day after day in order to protect them.

Nurses seem not to care.

"Visiting hours are over, sir. You're going to have to leave."

"Listen, I don't think you understand," I begin, flashing my badge once again. "We're federal agents."

"I understand completely officer-"

"Special agent" McGee corrects quickly.

"Excuse me. Special agent." She adds with contempt before continuing. "But we have policies. And our policy is no visitors after six. End of story."

It's McGee's turn to speak up. "This is a matter of national security, miss. We're her protection in case her shooter was to come back."

Abby's eyes widen and I realize that she might believe him. I quickly give her hand a reassuring squeeze, trying to remind her that the man responsible for Ziva's hospitalization is currently in the morgue.

"You can be her protection from outside."

Damn obstinate nurses.

Silence fills the room as Abby looks between McGee and me.

"When can we come back?" she asks softly. The nurse seems to relax at Abby's unthreatening voice.

"Seven in the morning tomorrow."

"Thirteen hours?" I exclaim, standing up.

"Normally we don't allow it till ten. I was trying to be nice." She replies through gritted teeth. I feel Abby's hand rest on my shoulder and I know we've been defeated.

"Fine." McGee says for me. "And thank you."

"I'll let you say goodnight." She says before exiting.

McGee wastes no time in giving Ziva's hand a quick squeeze before following the pink scrubbed nurse.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Abby says quietly as she attempts a small half hug with the recumbent Mossad officer.

"Goodnight Zi," I say slowly, bending down to kiss her forehead. Abby places an arm around my shoulder as we walk out together.

"What now?" She asks once we're back in the waiting room. The terrible, terrible waiting room.

"I don't know." I reply blandly.

"Drinks?"

"I don't know."

"What doesn't Tony know?" McGee asks, as we walk towards him.

I can't even think of a witty comment. How pathetic is that?

Abby, noticing my cognitive failure, quickly fills in. "You up for drinks, Tim?"

"Oh, um. I don't know."

"You guys are hopeless."

"I mean… It doesn't feel right, does it? Having drinks when Ziva is…" McGee let's his sentence trail off.

"Do you have a better idea?"

We're all quiet for a moment, as we realize there is absolutely nothing we'd like to be doing. You know… aside from waiting next to Ziva.

"McGee, could I get the keys?" I ask softly after the prolonged silence.

"What, to the car?"

"Yeah, the one we drove here in."

"How am I supposed to get back?"

"I have my hearse…" Abby says, taking hold of McGee's arm.

I notice how oddly normal the pair look, standing together. Almost like a couple.

Suddenly I'm hit with another nauseating wave of self-pity as I realize how lonely their prom picture pose makes me feel.

"Could I just get the keys, Probie?"

He quickly reaches his free arm into his pocket and tosses it to me. As soon as I feel the cool metal hit my hand, I'm off.

"Tony-" I hear him start, before Abby silences him. At least she understands.

-=-

"Took you long enough, DiNozzo."

"Waiting hours just ended." I reply as I make my way down the stairs, smelling the warm mix of bourbon and sawdust.

"Not much you could do over there anyways."

"And what exactly can I do here?" I ask, reaching the bottom of the steps and watching the gray haired man turn to face me.

"Help me sand this boat." He replies simply, motioning to his workbench.

I know he was probably pointing out the sander sitting atop the counter, but I go for the liquor instead; much more satisfying.

"Got any cups?"

He turns to look at the bottle, which is about half full – or empty – before saying "You won't be needing a cup."

I nod appreciatively before taking a long sip.

_First taste is always the hardest_, I think to myself as I cringe.

"How's she doing?" He asks as he returns to his fourth boat. It is his fourth right? Or is that the number of wives…?

"Good. I guess. Responsive coma. Doctors say she should be up by morning."

"Good."

I take another long draw from the bottle; now I remember why I like beer so much.

"I want to be there when she wakes up. Probably won't happen though."

"Probably not."

I'm beginning to feel the effects of the liquor now. That was quick. Or maybe it's just that my conversation with Gibbs is moving slowly. Neither is untrue.

Yup.

"Got any tips, Boss?" I add sarcastically.

"About what?"

"Oh, I don't know… maybe the fact that my partner just got shot at and it's effectively all my fault."

"It's not your fault."

"Feels like it."

"It's never easy to watch your partner get shot, DiNozzo"

"Yeah, I noticed."

"But you have to understand that it's not always going to be you to blame when it happens."

I take a sip from the bottle that's nearly empty now – have I really had that much already?

"Tony, this one wasn't your fault."

"You didn't see her in there boss… She was so…"

"Helpless?" He finishes. "And yeah, I did see her DiNozzo."

"The way she was looking at me… I can't get it out of my head."

"She's going to be okay, Tony."

"I know." I don't really know. "I know that. I just… I feel like I've failed her?"

It's more of a question then a statement. I think the alcohol is really kicking in now.

"You didn't fail her. And if it's any consolation, I'm sure you'll be able to make it up to her in the future."

"How?"

"You'll be able to figure something out, DiNozzo."

"That's just unhelpful."

"And so are you. I really could use a hand on this boat."

"I just finished off your excessively large bottle of bourbon, boss. Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"There have been drunker people working on this boat."

"Oh yeah? Who? McGee?" I scoff, picking up the sanding block.

"Abby has. Ziva as well."

My head bolts up at the mention of her name.

"Ziva's been here?" I think I already knew the answer to that.

"Yup. A couple times, actually."

"When?"

"Most recently… a couple weeks ago."

That's got my curiosity.

"Really? What for? I mean… what for?"

"She's been worried about some things." He says, turning to look at me. "Mossad business." He clarifies, at my intrigued expression.

"Oh."

I begin sanding, not really knowing if I'm doing it right. I figure if it's wrong, Gibbs will correct me.

Mossad business. What's that supposed to mean? Is she on a mission? Is she being sent back to Israel? Wait- is she?

"She's not going back right?"

"What?"

"Ziva. She's not being sent back to Tel Aviv?"

"Not to my knowledge, no."

"Oh. Then what was she talking to you about?"

"You should ask her yourself if you really want to know."

"She's in a coma Gibbs."

"When she wakes up." He says, giving the back of a head a light slap.

"Oh yeah."

"Go take a shower. You look disgusting."

"Thanks for that." I say, before realizing I haven't so much as washed my hands since the incident.

"I've got some spare gym clothes you can change into afterwards. They're already on the bed for you."

Gibbs is magic, clearly.

"Thanks boss-man." I say, putting down the sander and making my way up the stairs.

"And Tony." He adds, just as I reach the top.

"Yeah?"

"It's with the grain. You're terrible at sanding."

"I think I'll be okay."

"I know you will." I hear him say quietly as I exit.

-=-

**A/N: I'll try to have the next (and last) chapter up by Sunday, but I can't make any promises. I mean, I could, but then I'd probably end up breaking it.**

**Please review! It makes my day more than spoilers (particularly the ones we've been getting recently, which pose more questions then they answer).**


	5. 5: Ziva

**a/n: Yes, it's been forever. Way longer then that Sunday I promised you. But here it is. The final chapter. Enjoy:**

**--==--**

-=-

I'm back in the waiting room. 6:43. So damn close.

Gibbs woke me up an hour ago, fresh cup of coffee in his hand, just how I like it. I'm surprised he has enough sugar in his house to accommodate my taste buds. Perhaps he went out and bought some.

As soon as I finished the drink I drove here, sans shower. I mean, I took one last night. Should suffice just fine…

McGee is sitting across from me, head resting against the wall as he sleeps. Abby is curled up in the bordering chair, though most of her lies on the young probie agent.

And I'm just waiting.

Waiting for the nurse to let us in. Waiting to see Ziva. Waiting for her to wake up. Waiting to apologize to her. Waiting to tell her just how I feel.

Waiting.

The room is quiet. Gibbs stayed behind, presumably to wrap up the case we'd been working on. The one that started this predicament. I guess we all kind of forgot about it. I think it's justifiable.

The door opens as a familiar looking nurse walks out. She motions toward me, and I eagerly stand up and practically sprint to her.

"Yes?"

"Ms. David just woke up. And I know it's early, but I thought I'd let you see her."

I want to kiss her.

"Thank you," I say before rushing into the hall behind her. I don't look back as I run the distance to Ziva's room. I've only been there once but I memorized the path.

And there I am, opening the door. And there she is, looking at me.

Because she's awake. Because she's alive.

"Hey." I say, after a long moment. She gives me a smile that looks more like a grimace and I mentally kick myself for forgetting the pain she must be in. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine." She says as I walk closer towards her. I raise an eyebrow and a take a seat on one of the chairs McGee had brought in yesterday. "Better."

"Good." Okay. One thing at a time: first up is the apology. "Ziva, I'm sorry."

"What is there to be sorry about?"

"Getting you captured. And then shot."

She reaches over to grab my hand. Who's supposed to be doing the reassuring?

"It was not your fault, Tony."

I ignore the comment, as no argument I could make would change her mind. And it probably wouldn't help the guilt I already feel.

"Ziva… please don't do this again."

"Do not do what?"

"Get shot. Get hospitalized. Nearly die."

"I did not nearly die." I shoot her a look and she squeezes my hand. "I will try my hardest, but I cannot make any promises."

We share another moment of silence as I take solace in her presence. Just to be around her, alive… It's comforting.

I take a long look at her. Her face is bruised – quite badly. She has a long scar running down her temple, covered by a white bandage. I can't see where she was shot, as she has gown and blanket covering the spot, though I'm certain I wouldn't want to see it anyway.

"Ziva," I start again, unsure of where I'm going. It's probably not a good idea to start sentences without endings, but I guess it's too late for that now. "I'm glad you're okay."

It's a lame finish. I know it. She knows it. But at least she smiles and gives my hand another squeeze. "So am I." And we fall into silence yet again.

I want to say something. I want to tell her how I feel, or just how much she truly scared me when she got shot. I want to tell her what a frickin' mess I'd be if she were gone, and I want to tell her that I never want to leave her side again, even if it makes me sound creepy and borderline stalker-esk.

I want to tell her all these things, but I can't, because it's Ziva, and she'll laugh, and reject me, and Gibbs will head slap me, and I'll be transferred… so it's best if I just shut up and act normal, right?

Screw pretenses.

"Ziva, I care about you. A lot. A lot more than I'd like to admit. And I can't have you getting shot again because then I would go crazy. But I know, you're going to say it's part of your job, and I get that; I really do… but…" I pause, as Ziva's soft eyes gaze into mine, searching for more words. "I really don't know what else to say."

"Tony," she starts softly, and I shake my head as I let go of her hand. I close my eyes and take I deep breath before looking back into her compassionate, worry filled stare.

God I want to kiss her.

So I do.

I stand up and bend over her bed, cupping her cheek with one of my hands as I lay a gentle kiss on her lips. It's soft and not nearly as long as I'd like, but it articulates my feelings better then words did.

She's silent as I pull back. She's silent as I slowly back out of the room, and she's silent as I bang my head unceremoniously against the wall in the hall. Maybe she's not silent for the last one, but I can't hear her if she's talking.

Well. There it is.

I need coffee.

Or bourbon.

-=-

It's an hour before I have the guts to return to Ziva's room. McGee and Abby are in there, lightheartedly chatting away. The conversation continues as the three acknowledge my presence, though I'm having difficulties looking at Ziva.

"Where have you been, Tony?" Abby asks, as McGee pours a glass of water for Ziva.

"Oh, just needed some coffee. Plus it gives you some time to catch Ziva up on what's been going on."

"There wasn't that much to catch her up on." She says, eyebrows raised. McGee coughs, sensing the tension and pours another glass of water, this time for himself.

"Fine, you caught me. I don't like hospital rooms." I say, and Abby rolls her eyes.

An awkward silence begins as I finally make eye contact with Ziva. We've always been good at reading each other and this time is no exception. Her sad smile and small nod say more then words can.

They say that maybe she'd like to kiss me again. That maybe we could work together as a couple. And that maybe she'd like to find out someday.

Someday. And that someday is not today.

I nod back, and smile at Abby, who's giving me a searching look.

"So Abs, you were talking about that concert you went to…" McGee starts, and I make a mental note to thank him later.

I pretend to pay attention to the exchange as I try not to think about Ziva's lips against mine.

Perhaps someday I'll get to feel them again.

-=-

**--==--**

**I know, it's sort of a sad ending. But if they were to have this plot line in the show, that's probably how they would do it.**

**Keep the UST.**

**Anywho, I finally finished the story, and I hope you enjoyed it! Final reviews?**


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